Pirates, Passion and Plunder

by Victoria Vale

  This is so wanton, so dirty. My breath quickens and the space at the apex of my thighs burns. Warmth runs through the lower part of my body, desire licking my nerves. I’ve never seen Hank do this. I’ve never seen anyone do this. I even shy away from masturbating myself, afraid someone might walk in and see me.

  Oh God, what is wrong with me? I should find Samantha and never drink a piña colada again.

  Feeling as though my flip-flops weigh fifty pounds, I tear my feet off the floor and take several wobbly steps towards the door. I skulk, but my traitorous flip-flops slap against my feet.

  The man freezes and turns his head.

  My gosh… It’s Cole the Black…

  Or someone who looks exactly like him. His gaze crawls up and down my body, surprised and heavy with desire. In one graceful movement, he’s on his feet and a cutlass is clenched in his hand. He’s naked and still aroused, his erection big and thick.

  I can’t move. He walks towards me, his erection swaying slightly. My breath accelerates, and I take a step back, then another.

  “What do we have here?” he says when he’s so close to me his heavy masculine scent reaches me. He’s looming over me like a giant mast, his thin lips spread in a small, sly smile surrounded by rough-looking stubble. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

  Something cold and sharp presses against my neck. He’s pointing the cutlass at me. Sweat breaks through my skin, and I open my mouth, but fear grips my throat and the words stick.

  “Who are you, beautiful, and how did you get into my cabin without me noticing?”

  His voice rumbles, deep and slow and warm but with a mocking undertone. It reverberates in my chest and undoes the knot in my throat.

  Does he really think I’m beautiful? The thought kindles warmth in my whole body.

  “I’m not sure how I got here,” I say. “I’m sorry, I was just on my way out. I didn’t mean any harm. You won’t see me again.”

  He eyes my face slowly, taking in every detail, he half closes his eyelids and tilts his head back. “There is no need to make haste. We just met. I am eager to get better acquainted. But first, I must make sure you did not come to kill me.”

  “I didn’t! I promise.”

  With one hand still pointing the sword at my throat, his other hand he brushes against my side, my waist, his fingers searching. They graze one nipple then the other, and I gasp and arch into his hand. His touch ignites my skin and melts my muscles, and he only smirks at my reaction. I withdraw, embarrassed at the eagerness of my body. His hand goes down to my shorts and glides against them, going into the back pockets and the front pockets, brushing close to my sex, and I clench, aroused and embarrassed and angry.

  Cole then takes the little purse that hangs messenger-bag style across my shoulder and opens it with one hand. He retrieves my phone and turns it in his hand with a puzzled look.

  “What is this?” he asks.

  “It’s a phone.” I frown. I’m still at the museum, aren’t I? And this guy must be an actor or something… He is too convincing though. He sounds like he’s never seen a phone in his life. “You call people with it.”

  “Oh, like a bell. I doubt you can kill me with this.”

  He throws it on the floor, and I wince at the loud bang it makes.

  Then off go the hotel-room key card, the lipstick, the card holder.

  He hesitates when he turns my sunglasses in his hand. “Clever,” he says. “Dark spectacles. Convenient for Caribbean.”

  Thank God I left my passport in the hotel room, because everything else flies across the room and onto the floor. He turns the purse over and shakes it. When nothing else comes out, he tosses it to the floor, as well.

  He narrows his eyes at me, and his cocky smile widens.

  “Where did all those objects come from? And your garments? Is it latest French mode?”

  “Not really. And I bought all those in a store like everyone else.”

  He hums and cocks his head.

  “I love puzzles,” he says. “And you are one. You come here in your strange undergarments, having all these mysterious objects and watch me please myself. Do you want me to please you, darling? Coming here like a dinner on a plate, ready to be eaten. Would you like me to eat you?”

  He says the last bit next to my ear, his warm breath caressing my skin and sending sparks through my blood. My body softens and screams, yes! But I haven’t lost my mind just yet.

  “You’re wrong. I didn’t come here to do anything with you. I don’t know how I got here. All I want is to go back to my friend.”

  And just as I think about Samantha, I remember the jade necklace, Adonis and the snake, and the voice in my mind hits me so loud, I start. You are traveling back in time to help Cole.

  And then, To return to this time, you must put on the necklace.

  A shiver runs through me. Time travel? To Cole? Could it be? No, there must be another explanation.

  “You are not going anywhere until I let you.” His voice caresses me. “And I am just getting started.”

  Chapter 3

  Cole

  The little female is so delicious, I barely manage to restrain myself. My arms ache to lift her up, let her hook my waist with her legs, and tear apart the tiny blue undergarment that barely hides her arse.

  I want her to want me. I’ve never taken a woman against her will and will not start now, but I crave to plunge into her. I’m still aroused, even though I do not know who she is or why she is here.

  She intrigues me. Those big golden eyes the color of rum are intoxicating. The long blond hair looks silky and smooth. That beautiful face, so delicate and soft and feminine all my instincts scream at me to have her. She looks so pure I want to tempt her, to seduce her, to test if her innocence is an act or genuine. I do not get to play with women like her often. Most of my lovers are experienced—my sexual tastes do not suit virtuous girls.

  But this one—

  There is something about her I cannot put my finger on. If I’m truthful with myself, I’ve grown tired of the whores and noblemen’s bored wives. One of the reasons I want to go to the East Indies is to savor exotic women. Live new adventures.

  But this time, an adventure has walked right into my arms. All fresh and innocent and ripe. Speaking strange words, wearing strange clothes, carrying strange objects in her purse. She is concealing something from me, and I must find out what it is. Did one of my crew send her?

  “Are you Cole the Black?” she whispers.

  God, her scent spurs my desire to the next level. She smells so clean, like orange and bergamot, sun and sin. She is aroused—was aroused—I could scent her delicious dampness even from here.

  “I am,” I murmur.

  “Do you have the Spanish jade necklace?”

  I stiffen and step back, eyeing her carefully, my cutlass still at her throat.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “I need it to go back. Please.”

  Her eyes are wide, and she watches me from under her long thick eyelashes. She looks earnest, but I have seen every trick on this earth from the whores who usually warm my bed.

  “What is your name, beautiful?” I ask.

  “Lisa.”

  “Lisa,” I say, and even the name is sweet on my tongue. “I understand one of my crew sent you to please me, so naturally you want to make sure you shall get paid. But, darling, you need to work for your pay first. Why do you not undress and get in the bed. As you can see, I am ready for you.”

  Her eyes widen. “I’m not a prostitute!”

  “Forgive me, I did not mean to insult your profession. A courtesan, then. A professional lover. Rest assured, Lisa—Elizabeth, is it?—I have nothing but respect for your line of business. God knows, I am a happy consumer. But just so that we have an understanding, the jade necklace is not on the table.”

  Her cheeks turn an adorable pink, so pink they rival the color of the sunset. “No!” she says. “I didn’t come to have sex with you.”

&nbs
p; I love when a woman role-plays resistance. Especially as earnestly as she is doing. She is an excellent actress.

  “No? Why did you come, then, dressed like a present?”

  “I think I traveled back in time. I think—oh God, this sounds ridiculous, I know, but I think I traveled back in time when Adonis made me put that jade necklace on. I was looking at your portrait—yours and your friend James Barrow’s. And then Adonis said I need to help you and that I need to wear the necklace again to get back home.”

  I frown trying to see the sign of a jest. A curl of her lip. A sparkle in her eye. But she looks earnest. A little frightened even. Marvelous performance.

  I laugh. “Time travel? You do not expect me to give you the necklace for that nonsense, do you?”

  She sighs. “I know, I know. It sounds crazy. God. I don’t know what else to do.”

  Her eyes travel around the room, searching. She must be looking for the necklace. It is in the chest by the bed, locked away safely. Her eyes land on the chest and she frowns. She cannot possibly know it is there, but she might suspect.

  God, I want her.

  Then an idea strikes me. Since she knows James, is it possible he sent her to amuse me, to play a game with me? A fun challenge for a bored pirate.

  I’ll make her mine. I’ll go along with the theater piece she’s playing for me.

  “What are you prepared to do to go back home?” I say.

  She swallows. “Anything.”

  I put down my cutlass. “Anything?”

  Her eyes widen as she realizes my meaning. She looks me up and down, and I harden again. She takes a step back, paling a little.

  “Anything?” I repeat.

  “Not anything.”

  Oh yes, mouse, run and hide. I know all you want is to be taken and seduced and shown the stars. I’ll be all too happy to oblige.

  “If I told you that the necklace is right here, in this room, and that you could have it if you let me make love to you, what would you say?”

  Her breath quickens, her pupils expand, color comes to her neck and chest. “I’d say you’ve lost your mind if you think I’ll sleep with a stranger.”

  Stranger, she says. She’s a little princess then. A good girl. I know every good girl wants to be bad. And I am the bridge from the light to darkness.

  “Ah, so you need an intimate connection,” I say. “You want to get to know me better. You want to trust the person you sleep with. You want to feel valued and special. Am I correct?”

  Her eyebrows crawl together and pain flickers through her face. I scratched right where it itched.

  “You can trust me, that while you’re mine, I won’t let any harm come to you. While you’re mine, I’ll take make your body sing. While you’re mine, you’ll be the queen, and my only purpose in life will be to please you. That you can trust. I’ll make you mine, and you’ll love it.”

  I see her pink lips part, swell a little and darken. She’s aroused. She likes what she hears.

  Good.

  “And you can also trust that this arrangement has an ending, and as soon as you leave my sight, I shall forget about you.”

  I watch her eyes widen and the inner edges of her eyebrows crawl up.

  “This is what you can expect and trust. And while you’re mine, I expect full submission. You say yes to whatever I want to do with you. But rest assured, it won’t be anything you can’t take.”

  Her cheeks flush. She studies me, thinking. I know she wants me. I know she’s tempted. I just need to push her a little. And she shall fall into my hands.

  “Are you married?” I ask.

  Her face stiffens, and an expression of hurt flees across it. I think I know what pains her. The ache of a broken heart, of rejection. The pain I knew all too well since Duchess Chestwitch.

  “No,” she says.

  “A lover?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Come on, darling. Have this adventure. Let me open new frontiers of pleasure for you. Let me show you what your body was designed to do and feel. Tomorrow you will be back in your normal life. Tonight, experience a pirate’s pleasure. You give yourself to me just for tonight, and I shall give you the necklace.”

  She studies me, her eyes like bronze in the semidarkness of the waning sunset. As the last of the sunrays disappear from the opposite wall, Lisa straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin. Her eyes harden with a decision.

  “And I get to ask you three questions no one has ever asked you. And you get to tell me things you haven’t told anyone.”

  My jaw tightens. I am a private man. I am liberal with my body but not my soul. There are things about me not even James knows. Her final condition might be too much.

  But I study her, her golden sweetness, her unusual clothing. I have never met anyone like her. And never will again, I somehow know. I will answer her questions. How bad can they be?

  “And the questions,” I agree.

  She nods. “All right, Cole. It’s time I do this crazy thing I’ve wanted to do for a long time. My fiancé didn’t like it, but maybe you’re a better man for it. But also, I know there’s hope even for you. I don’t believe you just want to move from one woman to the next. I’ll show you there’s more to you than just sex. So, I will ask you the three questions. You will give me the necklace. And in exchange, I will”—she swallows—“give myself to you, under your terms. What do you say? Three questions and me for the necklace?”

  “I agree, madame.”

  She nods, her golden eyes as hard as amber. “But know this, Cole the Black. Neither of us wakes up tomorrow morning the same person. I’m ready. Are you?”

  Chapter 4

  Lisa

  “I am ready, darling,” Cole purrs.

  Oh God! My stomach clenches and jumps into my throat as if I’m on a roller coaster just before the deepest plunge of my life.

  He puts the sword on the chest of drawers and brushes my cheek with his knuckles. The touch glides like silk against me, electrifying my skin. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. My head is light, and as a wave hits the ship, I lose my balance. Cole catches me by the elbows and steadies me, and he’s so close to me I can feel the heat of his body even through my top. He watches my lips so intently, as though they pain him. Then he lowers his head and kisses me.

  I should step back. I should protest and stand up for myself. I should take his sword and put it at his throat and demand the necklace.

  But I can’t. I want this kiss too much. Something deep within me craves the taste of his darkness.

  When his teeth gently nip my lip, I know there will be no way back.

  Because the poison of dark desire tastes too good.

  His kiss is so tender, I’m taken by surprise. I thought he’d be powerful and demanding. Maybe even rough.

  But his lips are so soft, all of my nerve endings wake up and reach for him, intoxicated. His taste, the barely noticeable whiff of rum on his breath, the scent of his sun-kissed skin, and the tang of virile male send fire roaring through my veins.

  I respond. My lips press back against his, gently as well, and we freeze for a moment, swimming in the sensation. He withdraws a little, and I sway, lost without him. He stands a step away from me and devours me with his eyes.

  “What are you doing to me?” he growls, and crushes me against his hard, naked chest. He kisses me again, hungry now, desperate. I respond and our tongues lash in a wild dance. He engulfs me, his arms around me like warm vise. He runs them down my waist and grabs my behind and squeezes. A satisfied moan escapes his throat. He moves his hands under my butt and lifts me up. I envelop his waist with my legs.

  My head spins as he carries me somewhere. I’m warm wax, heated by his arms, ready to be sculpted and be made into whatever he wants. I’ve never felt so desired, never been so turned on in my life.

  He puts me on the bed and covers me with his body; his weight is pleasant on me. His cock is pressing against my sex, my clothes the only thing between u
s, and I instinctively tighten my legs around him and crush him into my body. His mouth is so skillful, I think maybe he can make me come just by kissing me.

  I moan, writhing under him.

  God, I never felt like this with Hank.

  Hank…

  I open my eyes to stare right at my reflection, covered by Cole’s sculpted body. His round, perfect ass clenches rhythmically as he rubs his pelvis against me.

  This is not me. I’m a good girl. Good girls are unworthy if they’re promiscuous… The words engraved in my memory by Mother pound in my temples. I remember the first time it happened. I was thirteen and we came back from church with our neighbors. Paul, the boy I liked, kissed me in the backyard. Mom saw us, and with red cheeks, her eyes bulging, she came at us. “You are a good girl!” she’d yelled. “No man will love you if you behave like this! You won’t be worth anything to a man if you’re promiscuous.”

  Cole hugs me, and in one swift movement he turns me around so that I’m on top.

  “I want to see your gorgeous arse as I’m about to take you,” he murmurs and opens his eyes, looking behind me.

  At the mirror, I realize.

  I freeze, the memory of Hank’s words, the hot, biting embarrassment burning my whole body. I want to cover myself, to hide somewhere safe, somewhere no man can ridicule me.

  “Having sex with a blow-up doll is hotter.” Hank’s words pound in my head. “It’s over.”

  A headache is born in my skull as the memories of rejection, embarrassment, and humiliation flood my psyche.

  I’m not ready to go through the same again.

  Cole is watching me, his eyes still dark pools of desire. He’s panting.

  “What is it?” he says.

  I slide to the side and sit on the bed, hugging my knees. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  He’s not disgusted. He’s not shocked. He’s not rejecting me. On the contrary, his handsome face reflects concern and care.

  “I’m not good at this. At this sex thing.”

  Cole sits up, his onyx eyes glare.